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Black Or White, The Blood Is Red
Is
the Black man’s blood black,
Or the Black Crow’s blood black?
Is the White Man’s blood white,
Or the White Dove’s blood white?
Why it’s red, any one immaterial?
‘Cause God wants to be impartial
To treat all the creatures equal,
What a display of His creative marvel!
Red, blue, white or yellow
Violet, green, orange or indigo
How all flowers look so bright
When seen in one bunch tight?
The nature’s plural color scheme,
Doesn’t it free the eyes from boredom?
What an immeasurable thing of joy
It gives as a gift of the Almighty?
The color by morn, a flower drops
When by nightfall, out it withers.
The beauty of a Black or White
Fades away by age overnight.
Mind not the color of the skin
But the blood that’s in common.
Respect every God’s creation
That’ll lead the world to salvation.
Rajaram Ramachandran
~~~~~~~~~~~~
A Song Of The World
Oh! What a wonderful world it is!
One man finds not for his child milk,
The other one roams about in his satin and silk.
That one is the result of poverty,
And this one, he says, is liberty.
Perhaps, one’s destiny plays its vital role,
Even should he run for his daily dole.
Ask not, why fortune should give a few happiness,
For they know only to say “Mind you business”.
Oh! What a wonderful world it is!!
Till yesterday, at his best, a mighty king he was,
Today, uncrowned, a fellow being he is.
No wonder, a poor man remains not so ever,
Yonder he goes, what made him a millionaire?
An accident, or a coincidence, or action followed by reaction,
Or, the wheel of fortune or misfortune, as it turns in alternate
direction?
Ask not again, what is all these about,
For none is sure to dispel your doubt.
Oh! What a wonderful world it is!!
Does the sun stop shining,
Or the moon from its waning?
The clouds choose not men and pour rain,
The fields prefer none but caters everyone.
Why then often goes man changing,
His reputation he cares not losing.
Ask not, why nature acts so impartial,
For it shall do its function, anyone immaterial.
Oh! What a wonderful world it is!!
Hatred begets hatred, everyone knows,
To love others, nothing it costs,
But why hesitate to follow this way still,
And choose to hate others despite one’s will.
With pride and prejudice none can thrive,
The way to success lies in “live and let live”.
Ask not, why one’s mind whiten not as a lily,
Sure, (it isn’t difficult) should only he follow the
rules of nature, really.
Rajaram Ramachandran
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Public Opinion
Once upon a time, there was a town,
Adjacent to the hillock, almost brown,
By the side of the winding river, Tara,
That watered, en route, fauna and flora.
The riches of the villagers around,
The hawkers lured their customers found,
The residents knew well their tricks,
But not the visitors came in trucks.
Deep inside a dead end lane,
There lived an artist of fame.
The bread, he earned, by hard work,
And little he knew, how to shirk.
The best of all the portraits, he drew,
Placed it just for public view.
Though, he knew well, all can’t be won,
He called for their fair opinion.
A placard, before the portrait, read,
That the worst part of it, better be said,
To make it, as they saw, worthy,
For him, to change it, where necessary.
A box, in front, he kept,
On its top, was there, a small slit,
For any critic, to drop a slip,
That could serve him well, as a tip.
A week thereafter, the box he opened,
To his surprise, countless slips, he found.
As each one passed a stricture,
The total went against his picture.
A foot note, right under the placard, said,
That the portrait went back to his shed,
For him, to retouch, as was told,
So as to dedicate it to their fold.
Untouched, it came back, right next week,
Wise, he became, this time to seek,
Again their views, of all its best part,
That perhaps was retouched, what they thought?
The slips, he took out, one by one,
Summed up, “FANTASTIC’, for the reason,
That he was deemed a selfless person,
As he cared more for public opinion!
Rajaram Ramachandran
~~~~~~~~~~~~
What's Love?
Love's God or God's Love,
It makes no difference with a dove,
For its life, was no better,
In the hands of a Hunter.
"My Lord!" asked the dove,
"Tell me, What's love?
Born-free, am I, to fly high,
Or, born-food, for others, as a fry?"
"Take me not home, for your bite,
Allow me to live, it's my birthright.
Thus, my Lord, with my freedom won,
Let my life go on, right under the Sun."
The hunter stood spell bound,
For no good answer, he found,
As for him, the word "love' meant,
Killing-spree birds, in his hunt.
Why God was so partial, he thought,
That, no matter, one life was caught,
For another life, to feed on its prey?
Oh, God! Was there no other way?
Suddenly a voice from the sky, he heard,
That spoke, "My son, it isn't only of the bird,
What you thought of, just now, on the earth,
God loves every living being from its birth."
"Say! No one eats flesh, but only grass,
Will not the earth be full of grass?
If all the creations eat only grass,
What becomes of the fate of the grass?"
"One wild animal eats not another wild,
But the one that eats leaves and grass, behold!
So, a grass-eating deer, isn't a vegetable to a lion?
Yes, as good as a potato to a vegetarian?"
"Will not this earth be full of animals,
With no planned growth, nothing but chaos?
The fittest will survive, is the law of nature,
But God loves all the creations, be sure."
Rajaram Ramachandran
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Best Smile
It was a Portrait
Of six feet height,
Full size Lady Grace,
Minus lips on her face.
With all his skill
The artist failed still,
To give her a smile,
Free from any style.
He scanned every mile,
For that unseen smile,
One lovely to admire,
Forever, the world over.
Smiles, smiles every-where,
But not a smile there,
New, true and plain,
His lady should own.
His wife smiled,
His girl smiled,
His servant smiled,
His boss smiled.
The milkmaid smiled,
The cart man smiled,
The beggar smiled,
The neighbor smiled.
The dandy smiled,
The waiter smiled,
The grocer smiled,
The councilor smiled.
He saw an ambitious smile,
Not an aesthetic smile,
And a cunning smile,
Not a winning smile.
He saw a dubious smile,
Not a divine smile,
And a greedy smile,
Not a graceful smile.
He saw a mischievous smile,
Not a magnanimous smile,
And a voluptuous smile,
Not a virtuous smile.
Smiles, with strings, he found,
Wherever he went round,
But not the best one,
The Lady Grace won.
The smile, the best,
He found at last,
From his own child,
Rocking in the cradle.
Now the Lady grace smiled,
Thanks to the child,
The portrait was acclaimed,
The best of its kind.
Rajaram Ramachandran
~~~~~~~~~~~~
A Golden Cage
“Oh, my sweet little parrot,
Tell me, what’s the secret
Of your voice and beauty
That makes everyone happy?”
“A golden cage, my King
Gave you, at my asking,
With gay, for you to live in,”
Said a kind hearted Queen.
“When I was in the wood,
I had the choice of my food.
From the treetop I saw
The Sunrise with awe.”
“In my parrot’s colony
I had their best company.
They kept me in cheers
And saw I shed no tears.
“In the forest’s open air,
I had everything to share
With all my companions,
And my close relations.”
“Oh my dear Queen,
What if, a cage is golden,
Or, I live in a palace fine,
Am I not now in a prison?”
“Please grant me my freedom,
To fly free in your kingdom,
And sing in praise of you,
As I really love you.”
The speech of the parrot
Quickly touched her heart.
She released it from the cage
Thus freeing it from bondage.
What a golden lesson
A big country to learn?
A small country needs
Its freedom assured always.
Ramachandran Rajaram
~~~~~~~~~~~~
All In One
“Oh! Lord of the Heaven!
Wither have thee gone?
Answer my daily prayer”.
Cried a blind beggar.
The pity of Heaven,
Touched his inner vision,
And he stood aghast,
Before the Lord at last.
“My son! ‘Am pleased!!
Your prayer now answered.
Not more than a boon,
Well, ask me, soon.
“Oh! Lord of Lords!!
To speak, I’ve no words,
Let me see my grandson rocked
In a cradle, made of gold!!!
Lord smiled and blessed,
So, as he wished.
What a package boon,
The wise beggar won!
He got his sight,
An estate, to his delight.
A good looking wife,
And a healthy long life.
He got all the riches,
To fulfill his wishes.
Later went to Heaven,
Long after his grandson.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
A Driftwood I'm
“I’m a broken, dropout, driftwood.
For any use, I feel, I’m no good.
I was, once, part of my mother-tree,
But I’m a fallen branch, now born free.”
“To her trunk content, from the nearby river,
She sucked up and kept a reserve of water.
She gave me all the nourishment
And kept me, ever, in merriment.”
“I shook my leaves, fresh and green,
When the cool air washed me clean,
As a sign of my life, before the world
To show, I was still in my mother’s hold.”
“Children took me for a springboard
And for a swim in the river jumped.
The village women, in their usual gossip,
Stood in the water to their neck deep.”
“With their buffaloes in water, the village men
Scrubbed the animals’ back, eyeing the women
With a seen-unseen, and cunning-gentle look
As they were busy in the bath they took.”
“One night, the sky was thick with dark dense cloud
That brought a storm, with the rain that followed.
The hands of the storm knocked me down,
And I was thrown into the river with my joints broken.”
“A driftwood now I’m, an outcast from my family,
In search of my future course helplessly.
Near the bridge, my halt before the whirlpool
Gave me a new experience, really wonderful.”
“The force of water tossed me up and down
And painted my trunk with foams brown.
A sudden flush of water pushed me forward,
And my onward journey again started.”
“What a pleasant jolly ride I had thereafter.
On my back, the birds took their shelter,
As if a boat festival for them to enjoy,
Also for me to share their joyful company.”
“To a destination unknown, I went ahead
And about my future, I was unconcerned.
By now I was rid of my leaves one by one
As the blades of water shaved me clean.”
“Slowly, I got sidelined into a sluice gate.
I was stuck up to find what next was my fate?
The Supervisor brought his four men,
And pulled me up from the water then.”
“In the riverbed, I was lying for days,
Left to be dried up by the Sun’s rays.
The passing dogs raised their legs,
And pissed over me wetting my sides.”
“A pair of thief, one day, chalked out their plan,
Sitting on my back, for a night-loot clean.
For a place of gossip, the old men of the town
Took me for a crude bench, by the fall of the Sun.”
“One day, I was carted and sold to a Landlord.
He kept me by the side of his house backyard.
To tie his cow, the milkman roped me around,
And what a convenient place he found?”
“The Lady of the house kept an eye on me,
To cut me into pieces and use me
As firewood, to save her fuel expense
Which drove me sad and tense.”
“Thank God! The Landlord, with his taste
For the art, looked at me not as a waste.
He chiseled my edges here and there
And gave me a fine polish all over.”
“In his drawing room, as a piece of art,
And a center of attraction, I was kept.
The visitors said I was so beautiful
That I was more like a sea turtle.”
“Whatever be my shape before their eyes,
To my good luck, I wasn’t turned into ashes.
With the benevolent mercy of my Boss
I was saved from a terrible loss.”
“ A tiny atom also has a role to play
And it has a place in the world to stay.
So, give every little thing its due importance
And allow it to have its own chance.”
Ramachandran Rajaram
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Unfathomable Ocean
Oh, Ocean! You mighty Ocean!
Why you’ve so much of passion,
For this globe, you hug, so tight,
To erode this land, left and right?
Who tailored you so well,
To suit your level as you swell,
As you keep this earth afloat,
For the sake of our comfort.
Mighty rivers into you flow,
Their surplus waters, row by row,
Still they quench not your thirst,
Nor take the heat off your breast.
You own a rich seabed,
Yet you’ve tears to shed,
That sink into the darkest clouds,
To fall back into thirsty rivers.
You maintain, in depth, silence,
Also make your shore full of noise,
With your endless roaring waves,
That ebb and tide, across.
All the sands the rivers dump,
Never let your level go up,
Nor all the heat, let by the sun,
Push your level down.
Your wavy fingers touch my feet,
To kindle my feelings, in retreat,
Little I guess o’er your submission,
Perhaps, an act of your veneration.
You are still growing in timeless age,
With full of treasures for pillage,
O’er the loss of riches, you never grieve,
But give this earth all you’ve.
Could this earth, ever green be,
Sans your mercy and glee,
While you swallow the heat of the sun,
To cool the breeze for everyone.
You build this beach, sand by sand,
With your mile long wavy hand,
For us to sit and watch you do,
Restless, in your coat of blue.
A silver coat, you borrow from the moon,
To thrill the hearts and minds of men,
To enchant a pair of love birds,
Deep into their merry dreamlands.
Your corridors obey God men's will,
To save their men from kill,
The brunt of wars, you silently bore,
Harboring all frigates ashore.
Your crowning glory lies near the poles,
Where you play different roles,
Also far below unfathomable depth,
Where one is sure of facing death.
In your empire, is there any explosion,
In the size of fish population,
Also of other countless creatures,
That live in your roofless shelters?
You mind not our dirty pollution,
But give us your full protection,
Besides food, water and occupation,
In the cross country trade and communication.
Millions of years I may need,
Your book for me to read,
And cover all the pages,
That have surpassed many ages.
Ramachandran Rrajaram
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Where Art Ends Love
Begins
The barrier, the Politicians create,
While the Artists go to break it.
Yes, he did break it really,
By his works of art mainly.
His canvass stood erect.
His brush danced o’er it.
At his will, the colors mixed.
His eyes, on the art, deep fixed.
His every painting, so meaningful,
Focused his expressions mental.
His search for a career tireless
Fixed his life before canvas endless.
His every magic touch spoke,
Of his every odd masterstroke.
The wet canvas dried up slowly,
That became a solid portrait really.
Who christened him as Anand?
An and means “Happiness,” as a word.
He brought delight to the world,
True to his name all around.
The orphanage, at last, gave a shelter
To him as a forsaken child at its door,
But in the pursuit of art his mad urge
Made him restless as he grew up of age.
Tara gave his life a new dimension,
With her true love out of affection.
As a vendor of cakes and fruits,
She pushed her cart in the streets.
Unmindful of the hot sun or rain,
Tara, daily, shuttled up and down.
Some leftover, by night, in her cart
She spared the same to her lover of art.
Her mother reached one foot to the grave
From her sinking life none could save.
As a fence for safety, Tara was in need,
And took him as her savior in deed.
Happy were the days, they spent their life.
Tara proved to be his most loveable wife.
His paintings revealed her true reflection,
And stole her charm beyond description.
Her untold moods, he drew on the canvas.
She gave him, day and night, her every pose,
That he transferred to the miles of canvas,
Thus every piece of art became world famous.
He was proud of her beauty, but alas,
His narrow vision measured only the lines,
To plot her curves on the canvas in front,
And didn’t penetrate into her craving heart.
How long anyone of her age can wait?
Her young reflections on the canvas sheet,
May remain firm sans any change,
But she was a growing woman of middle age.
The magic of his works, enough she felt,
As her biological urge didn’t permit,
His stealing her charms to the canvas,
In making her a model for his madness.
She hated his brush and paint,
And felt like throwing them out,
But her fear of losing him then,
Stopped her from this action.
Her blind passion drove her mad.
Her one-sided love kept her sad.
The Hakim’s magic potion, at last,
She mixed up with his breakfast.
With no grip, his hands trembled.
His brush, he could no more hold.
His vision blurred violently.
His faculty of art failed slowly.
His aversion for work was total.
Her wish for this, by then, became real.
He was, for comfort, lying on her laps,
And closed his eyes, unaware of her lapse.
Like a baby in arm, she caressed him.
The bursting joy of life touched the brim,
Of her heart, as she felt for the first time.
What an aggressive role, she played this time?
The world lost an uprising one more star.
A new moon, at last, Tara won for her.
“Where art ends, love begins,”
That’s what now this story reveals.
(Note: Hakim is an unqualified local
village doctor)
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Parable Of The Prodigal Son
“Let me have my share,
Oh, my dear father,
I’ll seek my fortune
Abroad,” said his second son.
In the form of gold his property
He gathered and took his journey
Into a far away country
Hoping for a life of bounty.
All his wealth he spent,
And he was left in want,
With his riotous living
And no help coming.
His hunt for a job in vain
Made him a servant to feed swine.
The swine-food-husks he ate,
And in regret he cursed his fate.
He recalled the days bygone,
When the servants, one by one,
Stood before him with folded hands
And obeyed all his commands.
A sinner, he felt, against Heaven
And wished to go back again
For seeking his father’s pardon,
To forgive and forget his sin.
He lost his rights moral,
As he went out in quarrel,
And wished to join the farmhouse
As servant, not as son of the house.
His father saw his homecoming,
And went towards him fast running.
He hugged him and kissed him
Showing all his compassion to him.
”Father, I’ve sinned against Heaven,
And I’m not worthy of thy son.
Forgive my sin,” said the son,
“As a servant please take me in.”
The father brushed aside his words,
And to the servants gave orders
To give him best of the robes,
A golden ring and polished shoes.
He ordered for a grand feast,
And to cook a calf, the one fattest,
To give his son the finest treat,
Welcoming his homeward retreat.
“My son was dead and alive again,
And was lost and now found again.”
So saying his father patted his son,
To the merriment of everyone.
The elder son in the field returned.
One of his servants mentioned
What in his absence happened,
Which made him disheartened.
He stood in anger outside,
And refused to come inside.
A loyal son he was, but no feast
A similar one he had in the past.
“My son, with me your stay is long,
And all that I’ve to you they belong.
He was dead and is alive somehow.
He was lost and is found now.”
“You join us in this grand meet
To give him this welcome-treat,
And let us forgive and forget
What he did as he knew not.”
(Story from Bible)
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mother Of Downtrodden
In the order of worship list
Mother occupies rank first,
While Father, Teacher and God
Merit next in this world.
Mother by her own children,
Mother by child’s adoption,
Mother from the order of nun,
So many Mother’s roles run.
To ethnic parents, Albanian,
A girl child was born
In the year after Jesus Christ,
1910, 26th of August.
At the age of sixteen
She became a nun
Of the Loreto Abbey,
The Holy order to obey.
Christened as Sister Teresa,
The future of her, she saw
In the land of Kolkata,
The eastern part of India.
Early Nineteen twenty nine,
At Kolkata, she settled down,
And worked as Headmistress
For more than fifteen years.
Her “Missionaries of Charity,”
A religious congregation holy
Order, in 1950, found its way,
For all the people to pray.
Thus she became “Mother Teresa”
In the heart of the city, Kolkata,
As a free a citizen of India
Gifted by the country, Albania.
Her first home for the dying poor,
And her mobile clinic for every leper
In the street, still run popular,
What a mother’s role spectacular!
In 1960, United States of America
Welcomed the holy Mother Teresa
And heard her missionary work
For the downtrodden and the sick.
The “Decree of Praise” to Mother,
A Pope Paul VI Vatican order,
In 1965, was conferred on her,
To enroll her as a Vatican member.
Her “Missionaries of Charity” spread
To the several parts of the world.
The Nobel Peace Prize she received
In 1979, for her work, as an award.
Her marathon tour east and west
Had a telling effect on her weak heart.
In 1997, 5th September, at last.
She died of a failure of her heart.
Beatification of the Mother
In 2003, 19th of October
A religious Pope’s order
Was bestowed on her.
A saintly lady from Albania
Enhanced the prestige of India,
Which was a launching pad
For her fame across the world.
One in million, arises a star
Like Teresa, our Blessed Mother,
A God-sent peaceful messenger
Living in our hearts forever.
Ramachandran Rajaram
~~~~~~~~~~~~
A Stone's Confession
I’m not required to boast myself
But I do humbly submit myself
To find “Can you exist yourself
Sans the presence of myself?
I’m the so-called bedrock
Absorbing the entire shock.
O’er me rests the earth’s crust,
Upon me you can always trust.
As you’ve for yourself an age
My life started before Stone Age.
Is there a planet minus my presence
Anywhere in the entire Universe?
Tell me, how long I can hold
The weight of my surface overload?
To readjust myself rarely I shake
That creates a disastrous earthquake.
Around the earth, I’m a stone vessel,
To hold the sea from all the sides well,
And to save it from the bottom fire
Burning inside the earth’s core.
The rivers scrub my back
To make bits of sand stack
That spreads under the seabed
And also builds up the beachhead.
When I fuse with any chemical
In odd shapes, I look so colorful
To shine as stones in precious jewel
Or to cut or sharpen any tool.
Rubbing flint stones starts a fire.
For laying road or rail track anywhere.
You need me in small pieces there
For the mile long route to cover.
In the hands of a sculpture
I undergo tremendous torture
To bring into this world anew
A wonderful piece of statue.
I’m in the shape of white marble,
Granite or Slate stone in simple,
The bigger size of me as boulders
Scattered alongside the seashores.
As God I’m worshiped.
Also as footsteps I’m laid
But I don’t pay any heed
To whatever way I’m used.
I know in me there’s no God
And He’s only in your mind.
But to reach your goal you find
Me a medium of some kind.
The white marble of Taj Mahal,
Or the granite stone of any temple
Will speak how I’m essential
To build such an edifice so tall.
Either the tallest Everest peak
Or the deep ocean bottom Pacific,
For their shapes I’m the cause
As they survive o’er my base.
Jesus Christ saved me from a sin
Once, as he told a crowd of men
That a non-sinner only can stone
To death the prostitute woman.
They bowed their heads down in shame
As sinners they were, every one of them.
Thus the women was saved from kill
‘Cause Jesus was so kind and noble.
About me there’re many things to tell,
But let me end here at this level.
Don’t think I’m only a stone dead,
But let this message of mine be heard.
ramachandran rajaram
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Our Mother Earth
"I've no water or air,
I'm a ball of fire.
Don't come near.
You can't live here.
Here, it's no fun,"
So said, the hot Sun.
"I've no water or air.
You can't stay here.
But for the Sun's light,
I won't shine bright.
I'm but stone and mud."
The moon cried and said.
"I've no water or air.
Will your life can bear,
With nothing for sustenance,
My hollow existence?
Stay, where you're,"
Said, the planet Jupiter.
"We've no water or air.
What's there to share?
Nothing but the death,
With no further birth,"
The Venus, The Mars and the Saturn,
Said, in their turn.
"Admission to only Angels,
And, not for body, but souls,"
Said, the sign board,
Kept aside the road.
The Heaven said, "Sorry,"
When I went with my body.
"Why do you go elsewhere,
When I'm down here?"
Said, my mother earth.
"To you, I've given birth,
With your body and soul,
To enjoy and play your role."
Yes, Mother, what isn't there,
For us, on this earth, to share?
Free food, water and air,
Everything looks so fair.
Thank God, for what we've,
And grieve not, for what we don't have.
ramachandran rajaram
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Marriage Is Made In
Heaven
To make a glass cup
It takes few minutes,
But to break it up,
It takes split seconds.
We smell the rose
Not by crushing it,
But through; the nose,
By handling it soft.
The baby with care,
Her mother fondles
As she wants to share
Her love with kisses.
Likewise, a marriage
That's made in Heaven
Confirms a life bondage
Between man and woman.
Marriage is a sacred institution,
A bachelor wants to get in
But feeling it a great burden,
Thereafter, out he wants to run.
The wife is like a rose
The husband should feel,
And he is like a glass
With care she should handle.
Any divorce will there be
If each one respects,
Whatever any difference be,
The other one's feelings?
Will the Heaven pardon
If they break their ties,
Violating its sanction,
For few silly reasons?
ramachandran rajaram
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Thousand Lies For A Good"
The limit of lies, for a marriage, in the east,
Just a thousand, that is the least,
So many-a-wed-lock ends in trouble,
Once a lie is pricked like a bubble.
Beautiful was the bride, adorned with gold,
But the lame bridegroom, never was told,
That she too was a handicapped lady,
With left arm, disproportionate to her body.
Ushered into their first-night-chamber,
He couldn't suppress his guilt from her.
She hid hers, in fear, under her veil,
To let him think, it was so real.
Suddenly a burst of laughter shook them both,
As time ran out to tell the truth.
The girl waved her short hand first,
The boy then revealed his leg-with-twist.
Pity, their elders suppressed the fact,
Not that, the couple be cheated in their act.
Their shortfall held them close, despite lies,
That would've, otherwise, broken their ties.
Ramachandran Rajaram
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Who Is Superior
Oh! You rational animal, are
you really superior,
Or, like other creatures, far inferior?
Among all the creations, where lies your place?
It’s for you to judge and elevate your race.
Have you the sense of gratitude, like a canine,
Or, the sight, even in darkness, as a feline,
Or, can you run as swift as a horse,
Or, carry that load, Off the back of an ass?
Can you display your prowess, like a lion,
Or, change your color, as a chameleon,
Or, stretch your neck like a giraffe,
Or, be as vigilant as a mastiff?
Of what strength, are you built before an elephant?
Can you widen your gullet, to swallow, like a giant serpent,
Or, fly high, yet spot a prey on the ground, as an eagle,
Or, hum and whistle like a nightingale?
Can you hear distant feeble sounds and run away like a deer,
Or, climb tall trees, sans support, as a bear,
Or, live in water, body unclothed, like a fish,
Or, on land and in water, as a tortoise?
Can you hang yourself upside down like a bat,
Or, drill holes with your teeth, as a rat,
Or, climb steep mountains, like a goat,
Or, win your race, on foot, with a hare or rabbit?
Out of flowers, can you make sweet honey, like a bee,
Or, juicy fruits, for no reward, as a tree,
Or, turn milk into curd and butter, like tiny bacteria,
Or, gift a pearl from dirt, as an oyster?
Can you weave a web out of your saliva, like a spider,
Or, produce even a drop of deadliest poison, as a viper,
Or, add fragrance to a flower, like a rose plant,
Or, maintain an order, as in the kingdom of ant?
Can you share your food with others, like a crow,
Or, yield sweet milk for straw, as a cow or a buffalo,
Or, clothe others in silk, like a silkworm,
Or, nourish the soil, as an earthworm?
Can you spit fire, like a firefly,
Or, be as delicious, to be eaten away as a turkey,
Or, have any feathers to unfold and dance, like a peacock,
Or, sing and fly up in the air, as a skylark?
Yet, how dare! You claim yourself superior,
In this game of life, every one, you wish to conquer,
You know, you’ve no place without whips and weapons,
The fear makes the strong ones serve your likes and dislikes!
You are judged the great among creation,
If your heart is full of compassion,
Your intelligence serves the good of humanity,
And the less-fortunate beings, with humility.
Yes! You’re superior, when you rightly “think” and “act”,
While other beings go by their instinct, in fact,
So comes, from Heaven, the clarion call,
“As thou loveth thyself, love, on this earth, all”.
rajaram ramachandran
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Why You've Fear When
I'm Here?
Why you’ve fear,
When I’m here?
Why shed a tear,
I’m not clear?
You’re every year,
Grown up in fear,
That brings you tear,
When you aren’t clear.
Show always a cheer,
In place of a tear,
That will, my dear,
Drive away your fear.
If still you’ve fear,
When I’m near,
You turn deaf ear,
To my words, dear.
I’m now clear,
That you’ve no fear,
Nor let a tear,
Down below your ear.
rajaram ramachandran
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Idiom, Idiotic Or Funny Words?
In the butterfly,
Where’s the butter in the fly?
In the better-half,
Is there any better half?
In the firefly,
Where’s the fire in the fly?
In the caterpillar,
Where to cater the pillar?
In the horsefly,
Where’s the horse to fly?
In the saucepan,
Where’s sauce in the pan?
In the angelfish,
Where’s angel in the fish?
In the goldfish,
Is there any gold in the fish?
In the catfish,
Where’s cat in the fish?
In the sweetheart,
Is there any sweet in the heart?
In the lime fruit,
Where’s lime in the fruit?
In the jackfruit,
How to jack the fruit?
In the strawberry,
Where’s straw in the berry?
In the gooseberry,
Is there any goose in the berry?
In the sandwich,
Where’s the sand?
In the hotdog,
Is there any dog?
In the crowbar,
Where’s the crow in the bar?
In the bookworm,
Is there any book in the worm?
In the paper foolscap,
Where’s the fool or his cap?
In the crabgrass,
Is there any crab in the grass?
In the cocktail,
Or cockroach,
Or cockpit,
Is there any cock or tail?
In the pineapple,
Where’s the pine or apple?
In the chickenpox,
Is there any chicken?
In the honeymoon,
Is there any honey or moon?
In the mango,
Where should the man go?
In the henpecked,
Where’s the hen pecked?
Such words how many
Appear to be funny?
rajaram ramachandran
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Balance Of Life And
Death
Thunderbolt! Thunderbolt!
Of tons of T.N.T..
All his commandants heard,
As the Lord of Death roared.
Around the conference hall,
Assembled were they all,
With pin-drop silence,
To review their performance.
This was an annual show,
For the Lord to know,
How His force fared,
In the work, they shared.
In the opening session,
The Lord held a discussion,
O’er their holy profession,
Well dedicated to devotion.
He felt quite upset,
O’er the shortfall in target,
That was year before set,
But wasn’t reached yet.
He threatened drastic action,
O’er their slow action,
And expressed his dissatisfaction,
In every direction.
Up stood the Eastern Command,
“Sorry, for your reprimand.
My Lord!” he said,
“The best of all I did”.
“I took, God knows,
How many lives,
Countless in number,
I don’t now remember”.
“’Am helpless, of late,
Despite their fate,
Their will to live,
Keep many still alive”.
“Death and disease,
They conquer, with ease,
By new found drugs,
Made of poisons”.
“Satan came to my help,
To turn forests into pulp,
And all running rivers,
Into stinking gutters”.
“Mercenaries turned killers,
Disposed a few lives.
Also bombs from arsenal,
Played their death knell”.
The Lord wasn’t happy,
O’er E.C’s slipshod reply,
As he meant business,
And not stories useless.
The Western Command stood up,
Hoping to cheer up,
The dispenser of justice,
Free from pride and prejudice.
“The men of wealth,
Endowed with fair health,
From their very birth,
Have no fear of death”.
“They die not of hunger,
But by hang over,
As they drink and drink,
And finally sink”.
“Their gun boat diplomacy,
Plays the role of supremacy,
From the western-wing,
To dominate every thing.
“Chemical war, Germ war,
Cold war, Star war,
War on land, sea or air,
Every thing looks so fair”.
“More and more plans,
To unleash odd weapons,
Are on the anvil,
For a massive kill”.
“My Lord! Wait and see,
None is born free,
From my clutch hold,
Young or old!”
“Mr.W.C. I go by results,
And not by your methods,
Billions, I see, survive,
While millions only die”.
“Life outweighs
Death for years.
My balance stands tilted
More towards life side”.
The Northern Command spoke,
At one and only stroke,
Of the regimentation,
Beyond one’s imagination.
Death was a secret,
It wasn’t let,
Out of the curtain,
But it is certain”.
The N.C. was brushed aside,
There being no secret to hide,
Before the Lord of Death,
Who had no more birth.
The Southern Command rose,
And explained his role verbose,
Placing his annual accounts,
O’er death on different counts.
“Poverty and malnutrition,
Unrestricted food adulteration,
Caste, creed and color,
Killed more and more”.
“Multi racial discrimination,
Multi religious faction,
Multi language friction,
Helped more life elimination”.
“Infantile mortality,
Abortion against fertility,
Trade on debauchery,
Terminated so many”.
“Tragic child labor,
Traditional bonded labor,
Age old order of slaves,
Took many to graves”.
The incarnation of Truth,
Justice and death,
Glorified not S.C.
But took it easy.
In the final session,
The Lord’s red eye vision,
Threw a fit of temper.
Chilling all commands shiver.
“Activate earthquake and volcanoes,
Send more floods and cyclones,
Engage more contract killers,
Encourage terrorists and hijackers”.
“The ends of justice,
Rests in my balance,
That should stand equal,
Otherwise, it shall be a hell”.
“The advance warning signals,
Oh! Our Lord, for natural calamities,
Kept death at a distance,
Giving life more a chance”.
“From U.N. to NAM,
Also far east Vietnam,
Peace was preached,
And also was practiced”.
“We will do our best,
From the year next,
Keeping your balance,
For our guidance”.
With a vote of thanks,
Satan wound up the sessions,
Assuring all his help,
For targets to be kept up.
rajaram ramachandran
~~~~~~~~~~~~
In Quest Of Truth
Today, in me, wonder, I’ve no faith!
The reasons, I couldn’t surmise, why?
For my little belief and courage, vanished both,
With my eventless past, fleeting present, nothing but dry.
In quest of Truth, in search for some proof,
Hither and thither, I wandered, left no stone unturned,
Still not enlightened, groping in the dark, reaped nothing but other’s
reproof.
Hey! Know some one, could blow out, all the vagaries of my mind?
Mummy gagged my mouth, dragged me straight to the pooja room,
Gods to the left, Gods to the right, countless in number,
“There you find Him, Oh! You unfaithful, never live in gloom,
For you owe your life unto Him, always remember.”
Daddy smiled, perhaps understood me well, on our way to the temple,
To the chambers and antechambers of Gods, he led me around,
“There, my son, live all the Gods, for whom rings, oh, the bell.
He only commandeth your destiny, all round.”
“The ‘I’ in you or me, the ‘I’ in she or he,
It is one and the same ‘I’ in Him.”
Said the teacher, still not liberating my mind free,
With all my sense of reverence to him.
“The ‘Eyes’ can’t see Him, the ‘Ears’ can’t hear Him,
The ‘Nose’ can’t smell Him, the ‘Mouth’ can’t spell Him,
Nor all the senses in the living body can feel Him.”
The holy priest said, what a confusion, how best could I comprehend Him?
If inside the silver frames, or the sacred edifice,
Or, elsewhere exists, the Supreme ‘I’ as one divine grace,
Why then all forces of ‘oneness’ stand in multiplicity for ever,
Solve this paradox, in simpler words said, it's better.
“Death follows birth, a change, an inevitable event,
But still one has the strong will to live,
Sickness or suffering, joy or sorrow, isn’t relevant,
To one’s fond hope of living next morrow, alive.”
“The water, wind, fire, earth and space, rolling into this body,
The eyes, ears, nose, mouth and senses, dancing to the tune of this mind,
The receptacle of intellect, as a storehouse for the Supreme ‘I’,
Repeats the course of life, with no beginning or end.”
“Aren’t the clouds, rain, wave and ocean, the same water,
So the gold, as the pendants, lace or bracelets,
And also the pots and bricks of the clay; no matter,
The forms and names, aren’t they the numerous expressions of His outlets.”
“When the little drops of water could make this mighty ocean,
The little particles of sand, together, this mighty world,
And the leaves, branches, roots shape this giant tree as one,
All in one, one in all, is the Holy order, behold!
Why, While awake, this conflicting turmoil?
Who spoke the Truth, in my deep dream of peace?
Better, Oh! Lord, keep me ever in my dream world, lest one more conflict
befall,
For saner I become, sooner my sails go, deeper into my ‘Self’ with Thy
grace.
Rajaram Ramachandran
~~~~~~~~~~~~
A Recipe For A Good
Destiny
A Thought
Leads to,
A Desire.
A Desire,
Leads to,
An Action.
An Action,
Leads to,
A Habit.
A Habit,
Leads to,
A Character.
A Character,
Leads to,
A Destiny.
A bad thought,
Nip it,
At its bud.
A good thought,
Nurture it,
As I said.
Your thought of a drink,
Kindles a desire,
For a peg.
Your desire for a peg,
Takes you,
To the bar.
Your visit to the bar,
Leads you,
Drink a peg.
Your first peg in the bar,
Makes you,
A habitual visitor.
Your character,
As a regular visitor,
Names you, a drunkard.
As a drunkard you're,
The day is not far,
For your rest in the grave.
A thought of the Lord,
Creates a desire,
To see Jesus.
A desire to see Jesus,
Leads you,
To the nearest Church.
Your first visit to the Church,
Makes you,
A habitual visitor.
Your regular visit to the Church,
Converts you,
A devotee of the Lord.
You're, as a servant of the Lord,
Destined to His abode,
On the day of judgment.
Now, you know the recipe,
Of your own destiny,
To keep you ever happy.
rajaram ramachandran
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blunt Truth Or Sweet Lies
Quite often sweet lies,
Almost everyone likes
And a blunt truth
Leads one to wrath.
Everyone guilt-free,
Any time wants to be,
So they resort to lies,
To cover their faults.
“Me, the thorn pricked,”
Thus, the thorn is blamed,
And not the one stepped
O’er it, en route, unnoticed.
“My Lord, a coin you spare,”
Prays a beggar to a miser,
Praising him as a donor
Just to fill up his hunger.
“Oh, you’re a source of joy”
Says a henpecked hubby,
Facing her usual fry,
That makes him almost cry.
Can he stay with his wife
Peacefully under one roof?
Lie comes to his rescue here,
For him to live sans any fear.
A lie saves a nation sometime,
Be it diplomacy, its other name.
One can lie to save a life
From falling into a strife.
How many lies under an oath
Do come up to cover the truth
In His Lordship’s Court,
To save a guilty from guilt?
Thanks to all the sweet lies
For saving many battles
And keeping all souls happy
Under the cloud of hypocrisy.
ramachandran rajaram
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Who Discovered The Mirror?
Who discovered the mirror?
We don’t, at all, remember.
To show our faces beautiful,
How much it’s really useful?
Above the wash basin
The glittering teeth clean
We see first every morn,
Before the day starts on.
The curly hair to comb,
The mustache to trim,
The oily face to foam,
How it helps at home?
Is there any beauty parlor,
Or a fancy dress store,
Or a modern shop tailor,
With no full size mirror?
Inside the ladies hand bags,
Or the gents coat pockets,
How the tiny mirror hides,
For their face-touch up uses?
To see the distant stars,
Or to find the tiny microbes,
How it serves a giant telescope,
Or a small but sharp microscope?
Mirror, mirror everywhere,
With our life for it to share.
Thanks to the unknown discoverer
For this all-time useful mirror.
ramachandran rajaram
~~~~~~~~~~~~
What's Not Music?
What’s not music?
Everything is music.
The smart cock crowing
To awaken the morning.
The cuckoo bird cooing
For its mate wooing.
The honeybees buzzing
With their wings flying.
The young calf calling
Its cow for feeding.
The peasant folks singing
When they’re harvesting.
The crystal stream gurgling
When its water is flowing.
The ocean waves rising
As they move jumping.
The rain drops drumming
O’er the roof, while falling.
The green leaves fluttering
To the strong wind blowing.
The temple bells ringing
To the pleasure of hearing.
The distant siren hooting
As a source of warning
The factory machines working
A rhythmic sound making.
So, there’s music in everything
To the lovers of listening.
Life is a waste
Sans music taste.
ramachandran rajaram
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Life Is A Dream
When delivered to this earth
I was born with this bare body
And on the day of my death,
They'll bury my lifeless body.
With empty hands I came
From my mother's womb
And what things can I claim
On my way to the tomb?
In between birth and death
What a drama one's life plays,
Chasing the shadow of wealth
Or the empty dreams endless?
In a drama was there a king.
The role he played it well,
But went ahead as a king
Even after the curtain fell.
He lost his self-identity
And wasn't out of the role
Of the king, it's a pity,
Having no self-control?
The Soul is a witness
To the body in action,
And from this awareness
It shall do its function.
The Soul that identifies
With the body also suffers
Like a weak heart that weeps
Before a drama full of pathos.
For your life to enjoy
Be a witness to your body
And free the Soul away
To become happy and gay.
Life is a drama, once you know,
Your Soul goes unconditioned,
And is ready, out to blow
All the vagaries of your mind.
ramachandran rajaram
~~~~~~~~~~~~
An Example Is Better Than
Precept
“My son takes sugar candy
Quite often, almost every day.
He doesn’t listen to my advice.
Please tell him to stop this practice.”
A mother told a Holy man,
Revered by everyone.
He smiled and replied.
“Next month bring the child.”
A month passed and she came back.
“Candy, my child, don’t take,”
To her surprise, he advised the child.
In his usual tone, soft and mild.
To her query why this wasn’t told
In the last meeting they held,
He said, “I stopped eating candy.
I’m now fit to advise him really.”
“An example is better than precept.”
This everyone should accept
And in one’s lifetime follow
Before giving advice hollow.
rajaram ramachandran
~~~~~~~~~~~~
If
you like my poems please send your comments to
rajaram@pacific.net.in |
